


Let Me By Your Skyline

by placentalmammal



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-10
Updated: 2015-12-10
Packaged: 2018-05-06 00:51:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 638
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5396621
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/placentalmammal/pseuds/placentalmammal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cass and Vivienne are residential students and fellow outcasts at a private, all-girls high school. Originally posted <a href="http://placentalmammal.tumblr.com/post/132651832658/please-please-cassandravivienne-11-partners-in">here</a> on Tumblr.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Let Me By Your Skyline

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ChocoChipBiscuit](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChocoChipBiscuit/gifts).



Carey Hall was an architectural monstrosity. It had been built in the early 1970’s as a temporary solution to the Convent of Saint Felicity Academy’s housing shortage and never torn down or replaced. It was ugly, all flat lines and boxy silhouettes, like a block tower assembled by an inept child. Its only saving grace, as far as Cassandra was concerned, was its proliferation of flat roofs and poorly-secured egress windows.

It was a simple matter to jimmy the steel mesh covering the window in the third floor lounge, prop the window open, and climb out onto the gravel roof, leaving the RA’s none the wiser. Cassandra had claimed that particular patch of roof as her own; gone as far as carving her initials into the bricks with a stolen dining hall knife. The roof was her refuge, her island of calm in the never ending hell that passed for her life.

So when she crawled out of the window to watch the sunrise on one bleak, November morning and found another girl squatting on her turf, her first, quickly-suppressed instinct was to push her off and into the rosebushes thirty feet below.

Her name was Vivienne. She was one year older than Cassandra, and not part of her usual circle. They’d spoken once, maybe twice in all their mutual years at CSFA, and had utterly failed to make an impression on one another. Vivienne, apparently unbothered by the cold, was wearing pajama shorts and a sweatshirt with a the neck cut out, smoking a cigarette. She nodded regally at Cassandra and returned her attention to the eastern horizon, apparently having come out to watch the sunrise as well.

“What are you doing here?” Cassandra hissed.

Vivienne let out a mouthful of smoke, which hung in the air between them. “It’s not your roof.”

“It’s as good as,” Cassandra said, awkwardly positioning herself in the small space unoccupied by Vivienne’s long legs. “I’ve never seen you out here before. Do you even live in this building?”

She shook her head. “I’m in Thomas.” She offered the lit cigarette to Cassandra, who waved it away impatiently.

“So don’t you have your own roof to sit on?”

“I like this one,” Vivienne said, with an unquestionable air of finality. Cassandra chewed her lip and said nothing, drawing her knees up to her chest and huddling for warmth.

Vivienne finished her cigarette and stubbed it out on the pebble-y roof, flicking the butt into the rosebushes below. “I lived here last year,” she said, by way of explanation. “Room 312.”

“I’m 317,” said Cassandra. 

Vivienne nodded as though that somehow conformed to her expectations. “You play lacrosse,” she said, a statement rather than a question. At Cassandra’s nod, she said, “I’ve noticed you, out practicing before class. You’re really good.”

“I’m alright,” Cassandra said, embarrassed.

“No, you’re good. Never turn down a compliment, dear.”

Cassandra’s cheeks reddened, from the cold or from the unexpected term of endearment. “I _am_ pretty good,” she said slowly, unused to the feel of the words on her tongue.

The other girl nodded in satisfaction. “Don’t let them forget it.” She lit a second cigarette, producing a lighter and a pack from an unseen pocket. 

This time, Cassandra accepted her offer to share, inhaling the smoke and eyes watering at the unfamiliar burn. Vivienne was gracious enough not to tease her for coughing. Instead, she said “I think we could be friends,” and smiled, showing dimples and flash of unexpected mirth and whimsy in her eyes.

Cassandra’s stomach did a somersault. Too stunned to form a response, she took another puff of the cigarette, desperate to occupy her hands as the sensible part of her brain went oh no. At the same time, the part of her brain that was bored, lonely, and frustrated went _finally._

**Author's Note:**

> I can't believe I never cross-posted this here.


End file.
